


10k/Murphy nonsense

by CherryBombx



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Boys Will Be Boys, Gangsters, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Male Slash, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot Collection, Random & Short, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBombx/pseuds/CherryBombx
Summary: Some alternative universe work that I am playing around with.These chapters are currently all just written on the notes from my phone so I apologise for any spelling mistakes or poor grammar!Thank you.
Relationships: 10K & Cassandra (Z Nation), 10K & Murphy (Z Nation), 10K/Murphy (Z Nation)
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve had some random, little ideas based on the idea if the pair had met before the apocalypse? Not really sure if I’m honest! 
> 
> If there are any requests for any random 10k/Murphy stories please don’t be afraid to comment and hit me with some ideas! 
> 
> Thanks you and happy reading!

Thomas looked across the bar with little appreciation for the scenery surrounding him. He didn’t really want to be there. The loud ruckus of jukebox music and the chattering of drunk patrons was clogging his brain up like a heavy traffic jam down a freeway. He hadn’t grown up with the same fondness of wild parties and irresponsible drinking like his friends had. He watched tediously as Addy, a red headed girl with dreadlocks and piercings brought a round of tequilas shots to the table. Her boyfriend, a blonde guy with indistinct features, cheered playfully alongside their friend Cassandra. She had groaned and rolled her eyes at Thomas at the sight of the shots but she still smiled and accepted them anyway. Cassandra knew how much Thomas hadn’t wanted to come. How she had batted her thick eyelashes and pouted her plump lips to their full potential and pleaded with him to stop behaving like an old man. They were 21 and Cassandra couldn’t believe she had such an antisocial introvert for a best friend. He had been a weird kid growing up and that hadn’t really changed through high school or college. He was always the quiet one, the one that wore the same three black outfits in succession and spent most of his free time playing with guns. Cassandra knew though that beneath this hardy outer shell, underneath all the awkward bumbling and cautious blue eyes, there was a sensitive soul. He was kind and generous and easily embarrassed but he didn’t seem to be able to show this side to him without crumbling to nervous wreck. Getting him to come to the bar with their other friends was indeed a massive success in her own, humble opinion. Thomas downed the shot on the count of three with the others and recoiled with distaste at the potent alcohol.  
“Do you actually like that?” He asked with genuine confusion, making the others laugh.  
“You don’t need to like it!” Addy insisted, “you need to get drunk and loosen up!”  
She pushed another shot in front of his slender hands and winked.  
“Come on, we can’t let the ladies out do us,” Mack, Addy’s boyfriend, said with competitiveness as he arranged his next shot.  
Thomas didn’t want to be peer pressured but he didn’t want to be the boring one more. The stick in the mud that everyone says ‘oh why did she invite him? He’s such a killjoy,’ about when they all went home. He wanted to be less uptight, less guarded, but it just did not come naturally to him.  
So he caved to the comradeship of the group and took the shot.

It wasn’t long before Thomas could feel the prickling warmth of his invisible alcohol blanket cloaking him. Starting to conceal all of his insecurities and anxieties and allowing him to be more confident. He started to talk to Addy about music and Mack about hunting. He could see Cassandra’s approving smile as she observed him proudly, a wide grin on her tanned face. She liked it when other people could see what she saw in him. This charming guy full with snappy wise cracks and interesting opinions. He just needed the opportunity to come gradually from his cage as opposed to being yanked and dragged like a yelping puppy. Thomas quite liked how he felt in this moment. Mack was patting him on the shoulder with that masculine approval and Addy was laughing with him rather than at him. He was starting to feel a little less like an outcast or Cassandra’s pet project and more like part of the group.  
From across the room a roar of boo’s and clapping hands could be heard from the dart board. Thomas raised his head like a curious meerkat to get a better look at the rowdy crowd. There was a man holding darts in his hand, swaggering his way around the stools and collecting notes of money. He was laughing with the cockiness of a self assured man. His eyes were sparkling from the thrill of his win, a scruffy beard decorating his smile.  
“Any other takers?” He had jeered, satisfied that no one else was going to be willing to pry with their cash tonight.  
“What a smug asshole,” Addy had commented, her face scrunched up as she sipped her beer.  
“Tommy you should have a go!” Cassandra suggested eagerly, grabbing hold of his wiry arm.  
Thomas shook his head fiercely, he was not ready to be stood in front of a group of strangers and looked at so intently. The thought caused a red flush to spread like a wild fire across his cheeks.  
“No way,” he laughed nervously, but Cassandra wasn’t having any of it.  
“You know you can hit a bullseye without even trying!” She said assertively before standing up.  
“Oi,” she called over to the older man in a clearly tailored suit, “I bet all the money you’ve made tonight that my friend can get three bullseyes in row and you can’t!”  
Addy and Mack cheered and encouraged Cassandra’s challenge. Thomas tried to pull his hand away from Cassandra’s and felt the blood drain from his face as he saw the man surveying him with a raised brow.  
“He don’t look like he can throw a paper cup let alone hit an Alan Evans,” the man sneered causing some of his crowd he had drawn in to chuckle.  
Thomas ducked his head and quietly pleaded with Cassandra to sit down and knock it off.  
“Your friend seems to think your something special,” the man directed to Thomas, “or are you just a chicken shit?”

Thomas wasn’t sure what made him rise from his chair so aggressively. Maybe it was the alcohol that was fuelling the fire burning in the pits of his guts but either way, Thomas didn’t like to be called a coward. Shy and unsociable he was but he wasn’t frightened of men that threw their weight around. Not anymore.  
“Yes Tommy! Show him up son!” Mack cheered as Thomas walked towards the dart board.  
The man was awaiting Thomas’s approach, a glass of something brown at his mouth and the crisp white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He regarded Thomas with intrigued, amber eyes. Thomas had to resist the urge to gulp down the dry lump manifesting in his throat, he had never been looked at like that before. The man was only an inch or so taller than Thomas, he had this handsome rogue vibe about him. He was obviously older, experienced in the hustle.  
“Nice to see some fresh blood,” the man smirked, flashing Thomas a dangerously attractive smile.  
Tommy wasn’t sure how to respond, he barely knew how to engage in normal conversation and his instincts were alerting him that this man was being flirtatious.  
“Last games winner goes first,” the stranger explained, pointing for Tommy to stand behind the line where he was stood.  
“Nice to see that chivalry is indeed dead,” Thomas sighed with a forced nonchalance, determined not to appear like a wilting wallflower amongst a pack of wolves.  
The man laughed like he had something lodged in the back of throat.  
“I don’t make the rules,” he purred almost menacingly, “but I’ll be sure to hold the door open for you when you leave.”  
The man then continued to take his go. One bullseye and two on the outer bull.  
Everyone clapped apart from the trio of Thomas’s friends. Tommy blushed at the sound of them whooping when he took hold of the darts. The man shrugged as though it didn’t matter, his contender wouldn’t be able to hit three bullseyes anyway. He took his position behind Thomas as he waited to be named the winner.  
Tommy couldn’t resist the temptation to chortle as he looked at the weighty little arrows in his hand. If there was one thing Thomas was good at... it was hitting a target. Cassandra was right, this would be easy. He had spent years practicing shooting guns and when they had been small Thomas had become a dab hand at hitting tin cans with a sling shot. He entered that headspace he reserved for concentrating on a target and inhaled deeply. He silenced the room with his mind, only focusing on the scarlet circle in the centre of the dart board.  
One. Two. Three.  
Three bullseyes.

“Yes! Ha! Fuck you loser!” Cassandra had laughed at the man who was watching with his arms folded and an inquisitive expression on his face.  
“Some aim you got there kid,” the man congratulated in a round about manner, holding out his hand for Thomas to shake,  
“I guess you really hustled me huh?”  
Thomas couldn’t prevent his thick, black brow from shooting in his forehead as he accepted the handshake,  
“Hustle?” He asked.  
“Yeah you know this whole meek lamb act you got going on and then bam! You steal the show,” the man was grinning, almost as if he was pleased that he had lost his winnings, “it’s very clever. Very impressive.”  
Thomas chuckled lightly, aware that his friends were listening to them.  
“There’s no hustle on my end,” he admitted truthfully, “I’m just a good shot.”  
The man hummed in response as he looked Thomas up and down.  
“Well I guess you won this fair and square then,” the man thrusted the wad of cash into Thomas’s hand without hesitation.  
Thomas suddenly felt very strange about accepting the money. He looked at his friends, their faces beaming with excitement at the prospect of more beer money. He looked at the man as he was about to walk away when Thomas was overcome with a nobility he didn’t realise he possessed. He reached out and touched the man on his broad shoulder, he could have sworn he felt a spark of crackling electricity zap through his fingertips. He must have been drunk, he thought with perplexity.  
The man turned with a furrowed brow, surprised to see the young man stood there. Thomas split the money in half and put one handful of notes out towards the man.  
“I can’t take all of it, I mean you did all the hard work getting that much in the first place but I can’t give it all back because you know, my friends will never shut up about it if I do ....”  
He realised he was rambling. He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from his mouth, the man was listening with an amused smile. This only made Thomas feel more foolish. The more he tried to calm himself the more the man smiled. His rough diamond appearance seeming to soften.  
“You won the money kid,” he said, “don’t be so fucking nice.”  
Thomas was taken aback, he really felt uncomfortable accepting all that money and now he felt even more uncomfortable that the man wouldn’t take any of the money back. He stood there, chewing his bottom lip with a thoughtful gaze upon the money when he was jolted back to the room when a mobile phone was shoved into his hand.  
He looked up at the man who was waiting expectantly.  
“If you want to ease your conscience put your number in that,” the man instructed with an authoritative tone.  
Thomas took the phone although his heart had most definitely skipped a beat, a sudden sharp pain in the centre of his chest.  
“My number?” Thomas echoed with a sense of disbelief.  
People didn’t ask him for his number. Cassandra was always the one that was centre of attention, that got the guys to notice her by flicking her long brunette hair or giggling at their tried jokes. Thomas didn’t know how to flirt or attain positive attention. He was too plain, too quiet... he didn’t even know if he liked guys in that way? Hell, he wasn’t a sure if he liked anyone in that way.  
“You know? It’s like a pattern of numbers that I can call you on sometime? 1,2,3,4,5,6 that kinda thing?” The man exasperated, uncertain of why the younger male didn’t seem to understand what was happening here.  
“I know what a number is,” Thomas defended with a juvenile scoff, “I just don’t get why you want it?”

The man looked surprised. His eyes like two pools of golden honey were raking along Thomas’s willowy features. Thomas was patiently waiting for the punchline, the one where he was the butt of this elaborate joke.  
“You’re taking the piss right?” The man laughed as he scratched the back of his neck, exposing a defined hip bone from under his shirt, before noticing the stiffness in Thomas’s bemused face.  
“Right,ok, you’re not joking,” the man realised before clearing his throat, “let me start this again.”  
He took his phone back and instead put his hand out to shake Thomas’s.  
“Hi, My names Murphy,” he introduced himself with a Cheshire Cat grin.  
“Thomas,” he awkwardly replied, accepting the handshake as firmly as he could muster.  
“Well, Tommy, I would like to have your phone number because I think your kinda interesting in this dorky, strong silent type thing you got going on. I’d like to see you again... maybe with less clothes on but I’m not rushing anything you know?” Murphy jested as he returned his phone to the stammering younger man.  
“Err, I .. well, yeah ... ok .. erm, right,” he mumbled as he avoided making direct eye contact with Murphy, pressing his number into the phone.  
When he gave the phone back to its rightful owner Tommy was struggling to hold himself together. Tonight had really pushed him out of his comfort zone. He should have been at home, toes pultruding through holes in his socks as he lazed on the couch watching shitty tv sitcoms. Not slamming shots, winning money and exchanging phone numbers with a tempting stranger.  
Who was he pretending he was?  
Murphy saved the number before gulping the rest of his drink and giving Thomas a small salute.  
“Go spend that money on whatever it’s cool for the kids to be drinking these days,” Murphy laughed as he walked away, “I’ll call you.”


	2. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy being angsty.

He couldn’t scrub hard enough to make the claret that clung to his weathered hands to wash away quick enough. The water from the tap was scalding his tainted skin, steam rising from the mass of pink, soapy foam that was emerging between his grazed fingers. Murphy cursed with frustration at his situation, painfully aware that he also needed to change his shirt. A once well fitted eggshell white that was now splattered in crimson droplets, the cuffs resembling an ombré pattern. He had liked that shirt. He started to focus on the cuticles around his nails. Harshly rubbing at them, desperate to leave no evidence on himself. God he didn’t need this. He really didn’t want to be in this line of work anymore. He felt too old, too soft and much too tired to be able to handle the risks and consequences of it all. He ripped the shirt off carelessly, no longer worried about loosing a button as it was now deemed a redundant garment. He splashed the hot water up his arms, lathering the soap all the way up to his broad shoulders. He was sure after all the years of partaking in this career path he would never truly be able to feel clean again. He could claw at his skin with a Brillo brush and rinse his sore mouth out with bleach and he would still feel like the filthy animal he was. He caught a glimpse of himself in his cracking mirror above the basin. His amber eyes looked so dull lately. Their alluring glint fading into a downtrodden squint that was adorned by several crows feet and mauve circles. His beard was untamed, scruffy and a few odd strands of silver were noticeable. Murphy was suddenly so self aware about how old he was feeling, he was growing. His muscles burnt from the strenuousness of the nights activities, his neck stiff and his back aching. He could have wept if he didn’t already feel so pathetic. He began to wash the soap from his arms haphazardly, splashing red tinged water onto the tiles of the cold bathroom floor. 

The door opened unexpectedly causing Murphy to leap upright. He hadn’t considered the prospect of Thomas waking up so early. He had lazily forgotten to pull the lock across the door, still getting used to the idea that someone else had full access to his poky little apartment. Murphy concentrated on removing the evidence from his hands, he could feel the young mans eyes boring into his profile view.   
“Where have you been?” Thomas sounded tired, probably only just roused from his slumber from the sound of the running water.   
“Out,” Murphy grumbled vaguely, turning the tap off and snatching the nearest towel from the rack to dry himself.  
Thomas didn’t ask anything else. He had learnt better than to push Murphy, especially when he was as prickly as he was now. Murphy was easily riled up after a bad night, the slightest things would irritate him and grind on what felt like his raw and exposed nerves, usually causing him to fly off the handle. Murphy never meant to be so nasty towards Thomas. The younger man would only have to ask for Murphy to pass him something off the counter and Murphy would dash it across the room, smashing it into tiny fragments. Thomas just always seemed to be in the pathway of Murphy’s furious downward spiralling but really Murphy knew he was just making excuses for himself for being an asshole. Thomas obviously didn’t have the energy for one of Murphy’s outbursts either as he gently placed one of his pianist-like hands on Murphy’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. Enough contact to be reassuring, not enough to make Murphy snap at him. Murphy caught Thomas’s hand before he had time to retract it. Murphy’s hands were throbbing and red, from the friction of all the scrubbing, against Thomas’s cool and slender fingers. Murphy rubbed them softly before releasing them, an acknowledgement of their unspoken agreement.   
“I’ll see you when you come to bed,” Thomas had stated before exiting.   
Murphy watched Thomas’s reflection as he left the room. His lean body wearing nothing but a pair of ill fitting shorts and his raven hair tousled from being pressed against a pillow. Murphy didn’t know how he had got so lucky. So lucky to have earned the trust and respect of someone just under half his age. He was so patient and collected, Murphy couldn’t describe himself as those things now let alone when he was twenty one himself. Murphy pushed and pushed and pushed at Thomas but the kid was resilient. He just came back fighting, his attitude stubborn and fierce. He wasn’t frightened of Murphy or what he could do. He wouldn’t cower or beg for Murphy to change. The acceptance Thomas had for Murphy was something the older man had longed for his entire life. He never once thought he would find that type of unconditional loyalty from the kid he picked up at the bar that night. He sighed, annoyed at himself for being so offhand with Thomas. He wearily used the blood sodden clothes to wipe the ground before carrying them into the kitchen where he then proceeded to drop all of the items into the trash. He hated feeling so wasteful. Wasting his time. His energy. His god damn clothes. Wasting what time he had left with Thomas before he finally came to his senses and realised that being strung out on Murphy was in fact itself a massive waste of time.   
Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he would try harder to be better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10k wants to tell his Pa about Murphy.

“Pa, please don’t make this a a big deal,” Thomas huffed in a embarrassment. He watched as his Pa, a tall man with a bald head and steel grey eyes, loaded another round into his rifle.  
“You skipped another trip with me,” his Pa said sternly, clearly still hurt that his only son had bailed on their bonding time yet again, “twice in one month.”  
Thomas shuffled uncomfortably, his weight shifting from one booted foot to the other. He wasn’t actively avoiding his Pa, he was the only family he had other than some distant cousins, he would never want to push him away. He just knew how the ever looming conversation was going to go.  
“I’ve said I’m sorry,” he reminded him with a sheepish tone, his crystal eyes focused on adjusting the scope on his own rifle.   
“What’s her name then?” His Pa asked, not bothering to look up from his aim, the barrel was pointing into the woodland before them.  
Thomas exhaled heavily, a sack full of led weights dropping from inside his chest down into his stomach. His father had always been a distant man, not unloving or cruel just tough and well disciplined. His military upbringing had been a major influence on how he decided to raise his boy. Thomas, not having a mother figure, learnt that talking was overrated. Especially about trivial things like emotions. It didn’t seem to matter how sensitive Thomas was as a child, his Pa would give him a stern talking to and a firm pat of the back before sending him on his way. Thomas was terrified to trouble his father with an obviously broken arm after falling from a tree when he was in his younger teens, he was hardly going to ask him for relationship advice.   
“Tommy,” his Pa’s gruff voice addressed him, “I asked you a question.”  
He shot his gun. Missing his target of deer in the distance. It danced around on the spot for a moment before continuing to graze. Thomas was sure the game was getting more brazen the more the years went by.   
“There isn’t a she,” Thomas answered, pleased that he wasn’t technically telling a lie.   
“I know you think I’m an old fool but I wasn’t born yesterday,” his Pa scolded, “you’ve never missed trips before and now your picking and choosing when you can visit, so there’s obviously someone more important you’d be seeing. You might have been the one to go to college son but I’m no idiot.”  
Thomas blinked in surprise. He couldn’t think of a time his Pa had said more than two sentences at one time. He was blatantly annoyed by the prospect of Thomas finding someone else to spend his time with. He never wanted Thomas to go to college in the first place. Wanted him to stay close to home and get a manual labouring job. Honest work. 

“I don’t think your an idiot,” Thomas insisted, unsure of how he was going to approach this delicate subject.  
“Her name then?” His Pa repeated through gritted teeth, realigning his aim to the bolshy deer.  
Thomas sighed, it was now or never. He just wished his Pa didn’t have a gun in his hand but then again, he always had a gun in his hand.  
“His name is Murphy,” he said, attempting to sound as casual as possible.   
BANG!  
Thomas flinched from the sudden gunshot. The bullet tearing through the deer before it collapsed to the ground with an echoing thud. His Pa would normally have already been marching towards his win, instructing Thomas to fetch the gear to haul the dead animal to the truck. He was unmoving. Still as an image on a Polaroid picture. Thomas didn’t dare to speak first. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to if he had tried. His tongue felt like a swollen wad of sand paper engulfing his mouth.   
“What kinda hippy name is Murphy?” His Pa scoffed. His face was mottled between a blushing scarlet and a pale, sickly grey. He eyes silently judging Thomas, as if he was looking at someone he had just met for the first time and was trying to gage how to interact with him. Not his own son. A pulsing vein prominent on the side his head, a tell tale sign that the man was feeling stressed.   
“It’s just what people call him,” Thomas feebly explained, “his actual name is Alvin.”  
His Pa frowned with bewilderment before shaking his head and running a dirt layered hand across his bare scalp.  
“Better bring him for a beer sometime, I’d like to know who’s making you miss hunting trips ok?” He finally said before heading off into the direction of the deceased deer.   
Thomas hung back for a moment, allowing himself to breath a long withheld breath. He hadn’t been sure what he had been expecting but that hadn’t gone as badly as it could of.

*****

“He might as well of called me the child catcher and been done with it,” Murphy groaned with disappointment as he slung his car keys onto the kitchen counter.  
“It wasn’t that bad,” Thomas attempted to reassure although he knew as well as Murphy did, the evening had been somewhat of a minor disaster.  
“Tommy, here’s something you might not know,” Murphy started as he began to unscrew a bottle of whiskey and pour it into his favourite glass, “when someone’s father asks ‘are you that much of a loser that no one your own age will date you?’ I consider that I have not made a pretty good first impression.”  
Thomas couldn’t resist the urge to chuckle. He rested his elbows on the ledge that partitioned the kitchen from the living room space as he watched Murphy gulp his drink in a flustered fashion.   
“He’s like that with everyone,” Thomas insisted, an amused diagonal smile playing on his mouth, “I’m amazed you care so much.”  
Murphy halted in his dramatic drinking to face Thomas. His face stern and his eyes narrowed as he peeled his wet jacket from his shoulders.  
“Of course I care!” He shouted, “you care about him, I care about you therefore I care what he thinks of me.”  
Thomas found his thick brows arched on his forehead, his lips slightly parted with genuine surprise. He hadn’t expected Murphy to be so affected by his Pa’s cynical attitude. Murphy himself was usually so sardonic and a pessimist by nature, Thomas half expected the pair to get along like a house on fire. Then again, they always say two wrongs don’t make a right. 

Thomas could see the aggravation in Murphy’s whole body. Thomas moved his way over towards Murphy with an apologetic look until he was close enough to drape his sinewy arms around Murphy’s collarbones from behind. He could feel the each staggered breath Murphy took, Thomas felt like whenever he touched Murphy he seemed to forget how to inhale air. He pressed his face into the clammy crook of Murphy’s neck and kissed him softly.  
“He doesn’t like anyone and it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like you because I like you enough for the both of us,” he affirmed, kissing the sensitive area making Murphy’s skin breakout in goosebumps.   
“Hmmm,” Murphy mused as he leaned his head further so Thomas had better access to his neck, “why did you never tell me how much of gun nut you are?”  
Murphy must have felt Thomas go rigid with anxiety because he held onto his forearms tightly so he couldn’t move away.   
“It never made me very popular as a kid,” Thomas admitted glumly, “everyone thought I was weird and that I was secretly planning to shoot up the school or something stupid... I try not to make a big thing of it.”  
Murphy left a trail of small kisses along Thomas knuckles before untangling himself from the embrace.  
“You could have warned me what a good shot you were though,” Murphy said on a lighter note, handing Thomas a glass a drink, “remind me not to piss you off.”  
Thomas cringed as he swigged from his glass. His Pa boasting about how his son won all the gun ranges young shooters competitions, how he was called 10k by all the local kids that were also living in the secluded skirtings of their small town, was now at the forefront of his mind.  
‘They don’t reckon he has missed 10 thousand shots! Now if that’s not something to be proud of but no, this igit wanted to go to college. What a waste...’  
Thomas had seen the frown on Murphy’s face when his Pa had been thinking aloud whilst looking at photos of a scrawny Thomas holding his little crappy medals. Murphy clearly thought it was strange, alarming almost that a father would push for a life like that rather than have their kid try to educate themselves. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t want to rock their already semi sinking boat anymore than it already was.   
“You don’t have to pretend to get it,” Thomas assured, his eyes staring into the brown liquid, “it’s a creepy little town full of rednecks and ... and I guess I’m one of them.”  
“Maybe I like creepy?” Murphy suggested, a genuinely reassuring smile on his lips, “my folks were no saints either, families are weird.”  
Thomas couldn’t help but smile back at Murphy. It didn’t seem to matter what dingy, dark, depressive hole Thomas found himself stuck at the bottom of, he could rely on Murphy to throw him a lifeline. He had spent so many years being ashamed and embarrassed about who he was and then Murphy came along and he seemed to make it all seem a little less.... bad.   
“My Pa hasn’t put you off then?”  
Murphy cackled as he pulled Thomas towards the couch with him.  
“Kid, it would take a lot more than you’re old man and your little gun fetish to put me off,” he drawled, sighing with relief as his body sank into the cushions.  
Thomas fell beside him, his head automatically assuming the position of resting against Murphy’s arm.   
“Careful,” Thomas laughed, “that nearly sounded like a compliment.”   
Murphy adjusted his arm, a naughty twinkle in his eye as he winked playfully,  
“Shoot me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy and Christmas.

Christmas was always such a strange time of year for Murphy. He actually liked the festivities the season brought despite how much he found the effort of it all truly exhausting. He liked the way every door way or shrub was adorned with twinkling lights and the fact he could indulge on sweet treats with the excuse of it being Christmas. What he didn’t like was the whole ‘being together’ notion. When he was considerably younger, him and his mother would would have to sit and wait all day for his father to join them. They couldn’t touch a single sprout or peel back a sheet of wrapping paper until the head of the household stumbled in from his day of boozing in bars. Then he’d usually rant and rave, drop his food all over the floor and inevitably pass out in the bathroom. His mom would cry and he would be sat in his room wishing he had a proper family. He would see all the neighbours large families piling out of their cars and dragging sacks full of presents, everyone smiling and pleased to be spending the holidays together. Murphy just couldn’t understand. After his mother passed in his teens, Murphy’s efforts were whittled down to him wearing a Santa’s hat on his dodgy deals. He never worried about making a fuss. This year felt somewhat different. 

When he had come home to find Thomas had started to piece together a Christmas tree in his living room he almost choked at the sight.  
“Why is there a tree corpse in my apartment?” He had asked, his face clearly riddled with horror as Thomas laughed.  
“Cassandra gave it to me,” he explained with a chuckle, “told me to stop being such an Ebenezer.”   
Murphy had found Thomas and Cassandra’s friendship endearing. The girl was a firecracker. She was rowdy and outspoken, she was gorgeous and she knew it. Normally the sight of an attractive young woman hanging off the arm of his boyfriend would had prickled his inner green eyes monster. He tried so hard to suppress those intrusive thoughts, the ones that made him loathe himself and want to lash out at anyone that got too close to him. Why wouldn’t a young, fresh faced kid like Thomas not want to be with a spritely, pretty thing like Cassandra? It was incomprehensible to Murphy but nevertheless, Thomas and Cassandra were completely platonic. Cassandra had even expressed to Murphy how much she cherished her friendship with the blue eyed introvert but there was no desire involved in it at all. He was like the brother she had always wanted. That seemed to be enough to coax the envious beast that lived inside of him back into its cage.   
Murphy had decided to take the time to try and be a little more festive this year. He wanted to at least try to feel like a normal person for the Christmas period. He had decided he wouldn’t work until Boxing Day, nothing brutally destroyed the feeling of Christmas cheer like dragging lifeless bodies into the woods or the strangulated screams of debtors as they had their nails torn always from their fingers. He usually brought a few presents for Lucy, his daughter that he barely saw. He would drive them up to her whenever he had a spare moment and they would talk for an hour on the doorstep in the freezing cold because he was forbidden to enter the house. His ex girlfriend was incredibly unforgiving, he didn’t blame her. He had been a bad partner and even a worse father. He just knew deep down that he would only damage her in the long run, this beautiful little girl with golden hair. It was safer for her to just associate him with birthdays and Christmas. 

He strolled down the high street, looking into shop window displays and dared to ponder on the thought of purchasing something for the new man in his life. He couldn’t even really be sure how Thomas ended up moving into the apartment so quickly. Murphy knew he had pushed the idea subtly, a sly way of ensuring he had some sort of tabs on the kid. Much easier to know where he was or what he was doing when they were living under the same roof. He just hadn’t expected Thomas to agree. Murphy enjoyed having the young man around. The way he now always had a warm body to pull into him when he finally crawled into bed. The way Thomas knew how Murphy liked his coffee even though Murphy couldn’t recall ever having that conversation. It was just nice to have someone around him who wasn’t demanding money or begging for drugs. It was nice to be kissed by someone who he knew was still going to want to kiss him tomorrow, even when Murphy was sober again. He wanted to partake in the exchanging of gifts to show Thomas how grateful he was for him. How thankful he was that he was blessed with someone with an abundance of patience and understanding. For being so trusting and forgiving. For being so bloody handsome. The only trouble was Murphy wasn’t very adventurous with his gift buying. Sure buying for Lucy was easy enough, kids liked toys. He could walk into any toy store and pick up a doll or stuffed animal and slap a label from Santa on it and the job was done. He wanted something more personal than a cologne set but nothing too flashy. Thomas wasn’t the type to sport an expensive bit of bling or a jazzy watch. He had a simple taste. Not easily pleased as such but not exactly a designer snob. Murphy wanted to find something that was just right. 

Eventually Murphy found something that surpassed his expectations. For a last minute, spontaneous buy he was rather chuffed with himself at his find. It was nothing too spectacular, just a set of rocks glasses with a bullet embedded in them. Murphy had been exposed to guns for most of his adult life but he was not particularly a massive fan of using them. He always felt there was something so cruel and disconnected when using a firearm but he knew that Thomas had an altogether relationship with guns. When he had initially discovered the younger mans interest and somewhat extensive hobby of being an excellent marksman, he had been even more allured towards him. He hadn’t expected someone so sensitive and collected to be into something that Murphy considered to be so aggressive. He liked that side to Thomas though. The side that was capable of fighting back, the one that would have a finger on the trigger before he even told you why he was upset. He could be unruly, unpredictable and Murphy fancied him like hell. There was a time, back in the early days, when Murphy had considered inviting Thomas to work with him. He wondered if Thomas would have had thestomach to deal with some of the crap Murphy did. If the younger man would get off on the thrill of the violence and chaos? Then Murphy thought better of it. He liked keeping work and play as separate as possible. He didn’t want Thomas to flinch when Murphy went to hold his hand or for that to be the only conversation they would share. This kind of work hardened people. It made them almost inhuman in the sense that they were desensitised to trauma and pain. He didn’t want Thomas to be like him, a hard casing around a very broken heart.   
Murphy was suddenly distracted by his thoughts at the sound of a people laughing up ahead. A group of young people outside a bar. Cigarette smoke combining with the steam from their warm breath against the frosty winter air. He could see Christmas jumpers with flashing lights and pairs of antlers on top of Santa Claus hats. Oh to be young and stupid, Murphy thought. As he got closer to them he realised he recognised the gaggle of pretty young people. A girl with bright red dreadlocks in Mrs Claus outfit was smoking her cigarette and dancing next to another girl wearing a bright green dress that was decorated like a Christmas tree. Addy and Cassandra. Thomas’s friends. He went to cross the street to avoid them but he was clearly too late as he heard his name being girlishly squealed behind him. He turned around forced the biggest grin he could muster.  
“Well hasn’t Christmas come early this year?” He greeted them as the drunkenly threw their arms around him into rather a bundle than a hug.   
“Happy holidays!” The girls sung which made Murphy laugh. They were wasted.  
“Tommy never said you were coming!” Cassandra said as she held herself up in Murphy’s arm.   
His face must have distinguishably twitched because Cassandra suddenly looked a little bit caught off guard. She smiled awkwardly as she realised Murphy had stumbled upon them by accident. Thomas hadn’t invited him which was one thing. What had made Murphy ridged was more the fact that Murphy thought Thomas was at home waiting for him. He didn’t know he had gone out.  
“I like to live spontaneously,” he forced a chuckle even though he could feel how brittle his voice sounded.   
“Hey! Girls what’s going on? You coming back inside?” A dark hair man with a beard called out to them. 

Murphy had initially wanted to go home and smash the new glasses into smithereens whilst drinking profusely until Thomas wondered home. He was like a strained sack that was pulling at the seems, so desperately trying to keep it together so that all that nastiness on his insides didn’t come pouring out. When Addy had tugged him by the sleeve of his thick padded duffle coat he had to resist the urge to shrug her off. They insisted he should come join them for drinks and he didn’t want to come across as rude or boring. Heaven forbid he was known as their friends older boyfriend that wouldn’t join in with their antics. They guy that could easily be mistaken for one of their dads actually behaving like an old man. He followed them inside, Cassandra rambling about some Christmas nonsense, it took every fibre of his self restraint to remember they were just kids, just enjoying the perks of being 21. They didn’t deserve his serious cynicism ruining their fun. When they approached their table Murphy was struggling to not turn on his heels and march away. Thomas was post shot, his lips puckered and his eyes squeezed shut in disgust as he slammed the little glass onto the tinsel covered table. A delicate hand was patting him on his back as he laughed with distaste. Murphy couldn’t help but notice that the hand belonged to a pale skinned girl with long brunette hair. She was laughing too loudly, bright red lipstick over wide mouth. She was seeking out Thomas’s touch, she had her hand on top of his as they giggled in a tipsy fashion, their foreheads pressed together. Murphy growled in the back of throat.   
“Hey!” Addy greeted the table, “look who we found outside!”  
Murphy couldn’t stop the provocative smirk that spread across his lips as Thomas arched a brow in confusion.  
“Murphy?” He unraveled himself from the girls clutches and tumbled from his seat.  
“Surprised?” Murphy laughed as Thomas tore the pair of costume elf ears from his head as he bounded his way over to him.  
“I thought you were working?” He asked, his eyes guilty looking and his bottom lip being pinched on the inside by his teeth.   
He was nervous.  
“Change of plans,” Murphy shrugged casually as he smiled.  
He was secretly pleased that Thomas was anxious about being caught. Not that he was doing anything wrong, Murphy didn’t care if his boyfriend wanted to go out for Christmas drinks with his friends but he did care about not being told.   
“I didn’t think...”  
But before Thomas could finish explaining himself the girl he had been talking to threw some napkins in their direction,  
“Tommy! You going to introduce us or?”  
Murphy’s face must have stiffened because Thomas squeezed Murphy’s robust wrists fiercely, a silent plea for Murphy to not react badly.  
“Sorry! Everyone this my boyfriend Murphy, Murphy I think you know everyone apart from Vasquez and Red,” he introduced, his eyes grazing over Red for a little too long for Murphy’s liking.  
God he could of struck himself for being so nervous of being scrutinised by a bunch of kids. They were all looking at him with that same interested smile, uncertain of why their friend was with him but none of them were willing to confront the situation in risk of upsetting their friend. Murphy was almost transported back in time to when he himself was an awkward post teen. Drinking too much and trying to impress his friends, seeking approval whilst trying to establish ones self identity. It was awful. He was glad that chapter of his life was over with but he was suddenly increasingly aware that Thomas’s one wasn’t.  
“Murphy?” Red asked, the girl with the disbelieving eyes and and a glass full of wine was looking at Thomas as if waiting for the punch line.  
Murphy tried to move his arm but Thomas hung on with a firm grip, clearly concerned that Murphy was going to do something to embarrass him.   
“In the flesh,” Murphy jested, his smile not quite meeting his eyes.  
Red nodded and laughed only to fill the threat of an uncomfortable silence. Murphy couldn’t help but take offence to way she had said his name like she had a baste taste in her mouth.   
“Anyway I won’t gatecrash your night!” He announced to the table.  
Cassandra boo’d and Mack told him to pull up a chair but Murphy didn’t want to sit amongst these drunken youths and feel like a spare part. A knackered and second hand spare part at that.  
“Stay,” Thomas said with a concerned pinch of his bow, his fingers desperately trying to seek Murphy’s but the older man wouldn’t accept the gesture.  
“No,” Murphy answered lowly, “I’ll see you at home.”

Murphy did not want to admit that he had been clock watching since the moment he crossed the threshold. He would never want anyone to know that he had poured himself a large portion of whiskey and stewed on the image of Thomas laughing with that girl Red. He had waited approximately three hours before Thomas had stumbled into the apartment. His key struggling to find the lock and the sound of his key chains jangling against the door as he failed to turn it the correct way. Murphy would have normally found this amusing, but in that frame of mind he was in where everything was smeared with a thick, black smog, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh. He was glowering and he knew it. He couldn’t stop his face from feeling so hard. He must have looked it to because when Thomas practically fell into the living area, the willowy lad inhaled sharply with surprise.  
“You’re awake,” he stated as he struggled to shut the door behind him.   
Those pristine, aqua eyes were slightly glazed over as they watched Murphy who was sitting in his favourite spot on the couch. His legs crossed lazily, his ankle resting on his opposite knee as he rested his glass on his thigh. Murphy didn’t reply to him. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He just needed to see with his own eyes that the kid came through his front door that night. An overwhelming amount of concern that Thomas would get too inebriated and not be able to make his way back to him had been weighing heavy on his mind. Now he was looking at Thomas struggling to remove his jacket and he could hardly say he was satisfied with the sight, but he could go to bed without the feeling of cement setting in his arteries. He swigged that last of his drink and before sulking to the kitchen where he dashed his glass into the sink.   
“Murphy please don’t ignore me,” Thomas groaned as he fought with his leather jacket to remove himself from its sleeves.   
Murphy continued with his routine before bed, ensuring the doors and windows were locked before walking to the bedroom and undressing himself, stripping down into his boxers before slinging his smoke reeking clothes into his laundry baskets. All the while Thomas was slurring in his ears,   
“It was just a random night, it wasn’t a plan. When Cas called I thought you were busy. I wouldn’t have not invited you on purpose but you always get so pissy if I call when you’re working and you always say how much you hate hanging around my friends. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal Murphy, stop looking at me like I’ve skinned a puppy!”  
Murphy turned to face the young man, an unimpressed tension around his amber eyes. Thomas halted his rambling as he felt Murphy’s stare. Thomas wilted first, he always did. His eyes dropped to meet Murphy’s scarred and bruised chest. He liked that about Thomas, he didn’t make things harder than they needed to be.   
“You embarrassed by me?” Murphy asked as he approached Thomas with darkened features, “didn’t want your new friends to see the old geezer you’ve shacked up with?”  
Thomas was struggling to regulate his breathing but he didn’t back down. He didn’t shy away from how Murphy overpowered him, bogarted him in to a corner of the dark room. He didn’t want Murphy to think he was so easily pushed around. 

“Come on, you were so chatty a moment ago?” Murphy pressed, his hands meeting Thomas’s cold skin from beneath the ropey black jumper.  
Thomas’s breath hitched at the touch, his own slender arms coiling around Murphy’s neck.  
“I’m not embarrassed,” Thomas practically whispered, Murphy practically purring at the sensation of Thomas’s fingers curling in the longer strands of his hair, “you’re the one with the problem.”  
Murphy cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by Thomas’s liquid confidence as he ground his hips gently against the spidery young man.  
“Problem?”  
Thomas leant forward, albeit it was best described as clumsy, the connection of Thomas’s soft, pink lips against his own made him melt.  
“The age gap,” Thomas said as though it was self explanatory, “that’s your hang up, not mine, I don’t give a shit what they think.”   
Murphy hummed, knowing that Thomas was most likely right but he couldn’t admit it so easily just because Thomas was caressing the crook of his bare neck with his mouth.   
“You’re telling me that no one takes the piss?” Murphy breathed, trying not to loose himself in the feeling of Thomas’s tongue trailing along his exposed collar bone.  
“Mates always take the piss,” Thomas justified, not taking his mouth away from Murphy’s skin, “I heard Warren the other day joking about if you get me to call you daddy. It doesn’t mean anything.”  
Murphy chortled at the memory. His closest friend had surprised him with a visit whilst on home leave from the Army. She had accidentally wondered in on Thomas as he was hopping out of the shower, leaving both parts blushing and mortified.   
“Eavesdropping were we?” Murphy chuckled, his hands fiercely holding Thomas’s hips.  
“You have the volume control of a fog horn,” Thomas teased as the edge of his teeth nipped at Murphy’s broad shoulder.  
Murphy didn’t respond, too busy letting his hands get to work on undoing the belt on Thomas’s jeans.  
“I saw you had Christmas shopping by the way,” Thomas gushed, taken by surprise mid sentence as Murphy took hold of his member, “nice to see you’re getting into the spirit of things.”  
Murphy decided he was finished with the talking. He wasn’t much good at it anyways. What he was good at was making up for overreacting. As Thomas moaned into Murphy’s ear, Murphy was so glad he didn’t smash the glasses.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all little toxic.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Thomas had announced breathlessly, his voice shaky and his eyes damp with tears.  
Murphy was still yet to move. He was still hunched up on the kitchen floor. His hands clasping onto the shards of smashed glass. The sensation of the sharp edges splintering into his palms, the wetness of his own blood becoming rather comforting. His amber eyes had merely flickered in Thomas’s direction in acknowledgement before returning to the spot on the Lino flooring he had been transfixed on. It was only an hour ago they were like a blazing fire, scorching and dangerous from their sockets but now they were dimmed out. Resembling the half alight embers of a dying bonfire. Thomas was enchanted by Murphy’s eyes from the moment he had met him. They were unusually bright considering how dark they were, like a bronze filigree reflecting beneath starlight. Thomas had soon figured out that he could premeditate Murphy’s moods by the shade of his eyes. When he was concentrating, his reading glasses framing his eyes and his chin resting on a closed fist, they were like two pools of golden honey. Soft and deciphering. When Murphy was aroused, his hands tangled in Thomas’s hair and his lips caught between his teeth, his eyes would burst into fractured sunbeams. Recently though, Thomas was becoming over familiar with the stern glare Murphy possessed. His eyes a deep dijon, a cold and frosty glaze overlaying them. There was no feeling in this expression, nothing good at least. When he regarded Thomas with his eyes harshly observing him like those of a cunning wolf, piercing and luminous, he honestly felt his blood turn cold. Tonight was no exception.

“You’re actually paranoid!” Thomas had shouted, “this is ridiculous!”  
He had gone to leave the room, determined to not engage any further with Murphy’s jealous outburst but he was pulled backwards so forcefully by his elbow he had winced at the firmness of the grab. Murphy was looking at him with that heartless stare, it was menacing and devoid of all the more pleasant emotions they shared for each other. He had pushed Thomas roughly into the countertop, the edge of the charcoal unit hard against Thomas’s spine. He hadn’t breathed, or at least that’s what it had felt like to Thomas. That if he dared to have even inhaled fresh oxygen for his lungs that Murphy might of misconstrued the action and perceived it as a personal attack. When he was in one of these moods Murphy was hyper sensitive. Thomas couldn’t even turn the channel over on the TV without it being a vendetta against Murphy.  
“How do you know him then?” Murphy had asked, his face impossibly close to Thomas’s. A bright blue ocean meeting a dark starry sky as their eyes focused on each other.  
“He’s a friend from college,” Thomas had tried to explain, already seeing the doubtful and untrusting cogs turning inside Murphy’s head, “you’ve got to stop...”  
Murphy made a sound that grumbled in the back of his throat, his top lip fighting itself from snarling. Instead of allowing Thomas to finish he had gruffly shook the lean lad so that he was startled into silence. They had remained in silence as Murphy retracted from the hold, Thomas thankful for the lack of weight that had been crushing against his chest. He didn’t move as he watched Murphy swig from his glass. Thomas wished he could make Murphy understand that this was all so unnecessary. Thomas didn’t have this long line of willing hook ups just begging for him to be unfaithful to Murphy and even if he did, he wouldn’t want them. He was infatuated with the older man with the rugged appearance and humorous sass. He adored this soft centre that the man had once you peeled back all the layers of hardened skin. Murphy wasn’t just the asshole he wanted people to believe he was, Thomas had witnessed this first hand but unfortunately there was always going to be this other side to Murphy. The more secretive and controlling side.   
The criminal, the narcissist, the villain. 

Thomas wasn’t oblivious to the situation he had found himself in when he got involved with the handsome stranger at the bar. Murphy would make Thomas lock himself in the bathroom if there was an unexpected knock on the apartment door. He would never answer one of his many phones in front of Thomas and Thomas was never to ask questions. Where did the extra money come from? What’s locked in the safe under the bed they share? There is a suit stained with mysterious crimson in the trash again, why? Thomas just had to turn a blind eye. No, he didn’t have to, he choose to. It was worth it, he had convinced himself. All the bad was worth enduring because the good times wasn’t just good, they were amazing. Thomas had fallen for Murphy like a meteor crashing to earth. He could so easily loose himself, submerge in Murphy’s dominant presence and never come back to reality for air. He couldn’t fathom why Murphy found that so hard to believe. He didn’t want anyone else, he just wanted Murphy but that didn’t stop the impulsive, heated arguments. The raised voices, the smashed up furniture, the bruises...  
“I love you,” Thomas had reminded Murphy as he had gingerly made his way towards the older man, “I don’t want anybody that isn’t you.”  
Murphy was glowering, his internal envy and misplaced rage clearly still simmering away inside his veins. Thomas had to swallow the irrational fear that was forming inside of him the longer Murphy scowled at him in response. Murphy had never intentionally hurt Thomas. Sure, he could cut your throat with his venomous insults and Murphy was heavy handed by nature but he had never acted upon any aggressive thoughts he may of had. It didn’t stop Thomas from hearing that little voice in the back of head though, the one that was warning him that the look on his boyfriends face was too unsettling and that Thomas should find a way out.   
“You don’t want anyone else?” Murphy had repeated as he swaggered his way forward, closing the distance between the two men.  
He sounded almost too calm for someone who had been bellowing the apartment down only moments ago. Thomas shook his head, his mouth slightly parted as he decided against speaking. In case he said the wrong thing. Murphy was suddenly overbearingly close, it was strange that even though Thomas was the taller of the two that Murphy could make him shrink into himself. One of Murphy’s large hands was then clamped on Thomas’s slinky hip, the other hand pressing under Thomas’s sharp jawline.  
“I really want to believe you,” he had muttered sullenly, his eyes studying Thomas’s neck as he tilted his head back slightly.  
“I’m not lying,” Thomas said as firmly as he could manage, painfully aware of Murphy’s thighs pressed against his, “please Murphy can’t we just...”

Bzzzzzz  
Bzzzzzz  
Bzzzzzz

Murphy’s eyes darted to where Thomas’s phone had been discarded on the countertop. The screen lit up so brightly in the dim room, the number saved as ‘Charlie’ clearly visible from where they stood. Thomas sighed at his friends poor timing, stiffening as Murphy’s fingers pinched deeper into his neck.  
“He’s ringing you,” Murphy stated through gritted teeth, his eyes not moving from the phone.   
“It will just be about an essay or something,” Thomas had rationalised, his hands trying to extract Murphy’s from his throat, panic building in his gut.  
“Why does he have your number?” Murphy asked with a sneer as he gruffly released Thomas and made his way to the phone.  
“He’s just a friend! I have friends what’s so bad about that?” Thomas almost whined with exasperation, “how many times are we gonna argue because a bloke talks to me?”  
“You wanna talk to him?” Murphy snapped as he put the phone in his hand, “go on then! Fucking talk to him!”  
Before Thomas knew it Murphy had launched the phone. He had propelled it at Thomas who was quick enough to dodge the spinning device as it catapulted across the room, just an inch from colliding with his nose. It made a large crash as it knocked into some glasses on the side. They shattered instantly, causing Thomas to jump. The glass skidding across the work surface, some falling to the ground on impact. The phone screen cracked as it continued to buzz beneath the segments of glass.   
“What is wrong with you?” Thomas yelped, trying to conceal how his hands were trembling from the near miss.  
“Me? There’s nothing wrong with me,” Murphy scoffed in a false blasé tone as he finished the last of his whisky.  
“Fuck this,” Thomas had had enough.   
He knew Murphy had relationship issues before Thomas came around. Serena had already forewarned him about Murphy’s ‘moods’. When Thomas had meet Murphy’s ex girlfriend, the mother of his child, that had been the initial eye opener for him about how his boyfriend could behave. She had marched herself into the apartment with a blonde little girl in tow demanding to know where ‘that son of a bitch’ was and when was she going to get her money, Thomas had been dumbfounded. He had been living with the man for six months then and he didn’t even know that Murphy had a daughter. Serena knew straight away who Thomas was to her ex, she had looked him up and down skeptically before mumbling something about how Murphy had always liked them young.   
“Don’t let him bully you,” she had instructed him, “if he thinks he can shout you down then he will make your life hell. He can be such a sulky bastard but if you keep taking it, he’ll keep doing it. Trust me.”  
At first he thought the woman was dramatising, exes never usually spoke fondly about each other but over time Thomas noticed what Serena had meant. Murphy would iniveortably attempt to push everyone away with his unpredictable behaviour. Whenever he felt a genuine emotion, something that was too raw or too much for him to process, he would throw up this invisible force field where it was like someone was pulling down the shop shutters too quickly. It was exhausting trying to keep up with pace of Murphy’s emotions. That morning they had been kissing, Murphy’s coffee had gone cold and Thomas couldn’t find his textbook but they had been fine. By the afternoon when Murphy had seen Thomas and Charlie talking about trivial dribble whilst leaving the college campus, they were most certainly not fine.

Murphy had pulled up beside them in his sleek black truck, his pride and joy, with such haste the breaks had screeched. He didn’t say anything as he threw open the passenger door for Thomas to enter, his fingers tapping frustratedly as he waited impatiently for Thomas to say an awkward goodbye to his friend. His knuckles had been gleaming a tight white against the steering wheel the entire drive home. Thomas hadn’t even been expecting Murphy to offer him a ride home that day. He had been mortified by the commotion the scene of the truck almost driving onto the pavement into oncoming students had caused. The way Thomas had to excuse himself like an embarrassed teenager who had been caught out pass curfew by their parent.   
“Where are you going?” Murphy asked with confusion as he went to follow Thomas from the kitchen.   
“Anywhere as long as it’s away from you!” Thomas had replied, he felt childish the moment the words left his lips but he couldn’t keep up the pretence of understanding Murphy’s need for control anymore.   
He didn’t understand. He had done nothing wrong and he was going to accept Serena’s advice. He wasn’t going to let Murphy shout him down, especially when he had done anything to deserve it. He heard the crash from the other side of the front door he had just slammed shut as the empty whisky bottle obliterated when it collided with the wall. He had squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the sounds of Murphy throwing things and knocking items over in his grown man sized temper tantrum. Thomas wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing this. Repeating the same arguments, refusing to be downtrodden by the man who claimed he relished Thomas’s defiance. He refused to cut ties with the other people in his life just to ease some of Murphy’s underlying insecurities. He would not allow someone to tell him who he could and couldn’t talk to. He didn’t care how many times all the kitchen glasses got broken. He had waited until he couldn’t hear any shuffling feet or clinking of glass before emerging from the safety of the hallway and back into his home. 

“I can’t keep doing this,”....

Murphy’s eyes involuntarily closed, his eye lids feeling like the weight of led as he struggled to bring himself to face Thomas. He focused on the feeling of the blood in his fingers, he never wanted to be this person. He didn’t want to be so easily consumed by his own inability to control himself. He was just .... he just couldn’t... he didn’t know why...  
“I can’t keep fighting with you ‘cos I’m not gonna stop having friends,” Thomas informed him although the conviction to it was somewhat weaker than it was probably meant to be, “Murphy you gotta start to trust me or there’s just no point in any of this.”  
Murphy knew that Thomas wasn’t being unreasonable. He knew he was allowing his other business seep into his personal life. His life’s were overlapping like train lines, he couldn’t believe just how narrowly the different aspects were missing each other. He wasn’t handling it as well as he had hoped he was. He thought he could make it work... but seeing that guy laughing with his boyfriend, the way they had passed the lighter to each other without a care in the world, it had eaten away at him. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t been. It was as if he could feel that green eyed monsters jagged teeth as it tore bloody chunks from his internal organs. He hadn’t wanted to loose his temper like that. He just couldn’t stop it happening.  
“Go home tonight,” Murphy finally growled from his position on the floor.   
He needed space, he needed to reset himself mentally. He couldn’t arrange his thoughts when all he wanted to do was take out his frustrations on that beautiful, doe eyed man. He wanted to stake his claim, ensure that Thomas wouldn’t so much as want to say ‘excuse me’ to a stranger. Murphy cleared his throat at the thought of Thomas’s tight, pert behind flushing a violent fuchsia beneath Murphy’s hands. He knew that was not a healthy method of dealing with you’re problems. He knew how perturbed Thomas’s reaction would be if Murphy was to initiate such an untoward apology. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to upset him anymore than he already had.  
“Tommy stop staring at me and go home please,” he huffed, letting the back of his head crack against the cupboard doors as he relaxed, “I’ll call you.”  
Thomas looked unsure. Of all the things he had probably been preparing for Murphy to say that was most likely one of the most unexpected. Murphy hadn’t ever asked Thomas to leave before. He had never sent him away. Murphy could see the hurt in his boyfriends eyes, transparent like cracked diamonds.   
“I’m giving you one more chance to walk out of that door before I drag you through it,” Murphy threatened, teeth bared like a warning dog.   
Thomas didn’t even say anything as he stormed out of the apartment. It was silent as Thomas waited outside the door, partially hoping that Murphy would chase after him and tell him to come back inside. He didn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas had never spoken to the police before moving in with Murphy. He might have waved an awkward greeting to the local sheriff back at home but he never had any real involvement with them. He’d never broken the law and neither had his Pa. To say he was shocked when Murphy started reeling off the correct phrases and loopholes Thomas might need to learn would have been an understatement. Murphy told him the rules immediately when he started to stay there more often.  
‘Don’t let them pass the threshold. They need a warrant but don’t worry there’s nothing in the apartment anyways.  
Don’t tell them anything. It’s either no comment or if that won’t work keep it as vague as possible.’  
Thomas had originally found the prospect of talking to cops quite overwhelming but as time passed, like most things associated with Murphy, it became quite somewhat of the norm.

Thomas had seen the seaweed green car crawling behind him on his morning jog quite quickly. A few years ago, the notion that cops would be trailing behind him would have had him in a panic but now he would make them wait until he had finished his miles. He bounded up the stairwell when reaching the apartment block, sweat slicking his obsidian hair against his head as he gulped the cool water from his flask. Before the key even turned in the lock he heard the footfall of smart shoes and muffled voices.  
Thomas sighed, annoyed that his shower was going to be delayed.  
“He’s not here,” he informed them without even looking behind him as he entered the apartment, leaving the door ajar so that the officers could still see him.  
“We just want to ask him a few questions?” Inspector Hammond, a tall roguish looking man with dark skin and tired eyes.   
It was always Hammond that was at Murphy’s door. He seemed to be fixated on the prospect of being the man that finally caught him and brought him to justice. Thomas couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him, he would never catch Murphy. Whatever it was he did, he had been doing it a long time.  
“I don’t know where he is,” Thomas lied, knowing full well that Murphy was visiting his daughter today.   
“We both know that’s not true,” Hammond pressed, eyeing up how Thomas grabbed himself another bottle of water and chugged it. He needn’t worry about Hammond crossing over the doorway, he had been chasing Murphy for years and knew the unspoken rule.  
Thomas shrugged, already bored of the interaction,  
“I’ll tell him you dropped by, now if you don’t mind I need to hit the shower?”  
“Why do you keep covering for him?” Merch, an older woman who had clearly worked in the force for a long time but was new to this position, asked with bemusement in her worn face.   
Thomas’s eyes briefly acknowledged how Hammond’s chest heaved, taking an uncomfortable breath as he cleared his throat.  
“I’m not,” Thomas insisted, “I don’t know anything.”  
Merch didn’t look like she believed him, her eyes examining Thomas face as if she might find something to help her cause.  
“Do you think he loves you?” She asked suddenly, making Thomas’s brow crease and air exhale sharply from his nose.  
“What?” He scoffed, he looked as Hammond before adding, “you don’t normally ask me these sort of questions?”  
Hammond went to apologise on behalf of his colleague but Merch interjected. Her enthusiasm for her work and her eagerness to want to make Thomas understand the gravity of the situation he was in overpowering Hammond’s softly-softly approach.  
“Alvin Murphy is a criminal, a dangerous one at that. Why do you think we’re at this door every week? It’s not for fun kid, it’s because he’s done something. Usually something very bad. You can keep burying your head in the sand all you want and pretend that you don’t see what is happening because you think that’s what you should do. Because he buys your affection and pays you attention? Think of all those people he hurts? All those families? He could hurt you too one day...”  
Thomas could feel something rising inside of himself. He recognised it immediately. It was that nasty streak he worked so hard at denying himself. That part of him that wanted to reach for a gun and put bullets into anyone he came into contact with just because that pressure on the trigger would provide him with instant relief inside his tight wounded brain. Like a sudden release of a compressed spring. He felt his grip on the front door harden, his nails scratching against the burgundy paint work.  
“You can give me the character assassinations all you want love but let me tell you something that you don’t wanna hear,” he found himself sneering, a new habit he had acquired since being around Murphy too much, “I don’t need saving.”  
His eyes had darkened into a stormy sea, navy waves crashing and violent in his sockets. Merch must have realised that she had been pushing the wrong buttons.   
Thomas may be the younger male, meek and mild mannered, polite and studious. That didn’t mean that this officer knew him. She didn’t know him the way Murphy did. No one knew him the way Murphy did.

Hammond was quick to react to Thomas’s offence. He apologised for disturbing and apologised for that he would no doubt have to disturb him again the future.  
Once they were back in the car, the smell of their earlier coffees they had brought still lingering in the material of the seats, Hammond rubbed at his face roughly.  
“What were you thinking?” He finally groaned at Merch, “you can’t just throw around assumptions like that! I need that kid to stay amicable. We don’t wanna put too much pressure on him, he won’t say shit now!”  
“He wasn’t going to say anything anyway,” Merch defended, looking more deflated than usual, “I just thought maybe he needed a push in the right direction.”  
“The only direction you’ve pushed him in is closer to Murphy,” Hammond grumbled, already trying to mentally rearrange his plans on how to get hold of that slippery bastard.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Merch apologised reluctantly, “I just don’t get it you know? How people can just pretend they don’t notice when someone is doing something wrong? You can’t honestly believe that Murphy is with that kid for anything good?”  
Hammond shrugged. When he had first met Thomas he had been taken aback too. He had expected Murphy to have been like many of the other crooks he had caught in his career. A typical wannabe hard man, a flash house that he didn’t earn and a fast car that had changed hands more times than Hammond had eaten hot dinners. He expected when the door opened to be greeted by a busty blonde, implants and lip fillers paid for by Murphy. These women were either completely clueless that it hurt Hammond’s brain or they simply didn’t care where the money came from as long as it provided the lavish lifestyle they desired. When Hammond knocked on the door of a pretty basic apartment in a relatively normal neighbourhood, he was somewhat humbled. A fresh faced kid with contrasting back hair against pale skin opened the door, his eyes innocent and concerned, Hammond had presumed that he was a relative of Murphy’s. When Murphy had come up from behind Thomas, his hand stroking up the young mans spine before resting on the back of his neck, Hammond was quick to realising that Murphy wasn’t his typical gangster. That had made everything even worse. He was harder to predict, the regular get up’s and moles just didn’t work. The deals were shadier, less public knowledge, less leaks. Murphy was clever, Hammond had to admire, clever enough anyway to evade being arrested for anything serious. Hammond could understand why Merch thought Thomas could be the weak link in the company Murphy kept but the truth was Hammond couldn’t suss the kid out and that made him another question mark to add around Murphy. Thomas had a squeaky clean record. He had a, from what Hammond could tell, an average upbringing. He had a legit drivers license and even a legitimate gun permit. He attended the local college and from what he could find out was a good student. He just didn’t fit the image to be involved with such a nasty piece of work like Murphy but there had to be something. There had to be a darker side to him.  
“It’s none of our business if it’s good or not,” Hammond stated as he started the engine, “but people want to hurt each other eventually. Murphy will mess up at some point, a messy break up, revenge? That kid will wanna talk to us one day so let’s just keep him sweet shall we?”

“Sargent small dick was it?” Murphy chuckled, “I’m starting to feel like I have a stalker.”  
Thomas rolled his eyes at Murphy’s laid back attitude towards it all. It always amazed him how Murphy never seemed to act like he was bothered of the prospect of prison.  
“He is desperate to pin something on you you know?” Thomas reminded him, stirring the food the was boiling on the hob, “and his new partner was...”  
He trailed off.   
He suddenly wasn’t sure if he should say anything about what Merch thought of their relationship. It could completely ruin Murphy’s good mood.   
Murphy leant against the counter, his eyebrow arched in waiting,  
“Was what?”  
Thomas sighed, shaking his head and plastering on a smile as he pretended that her words hadn’t haunted him.  
“Nothing she was just a bit pushy that’s all,” Thomas said before seeing how Murphy shuffled anxiously, scratching at his beard.  
“Don’t worry I didn’t say anything,” Thomas added hastily, “I swear I would never say anything.”  
Murphy smiled. A genuine smile that brightened his whole face. He laughed lightly before leaning over to plant a playful kiss on Thomas’s temple.  
“I know kid,” his fingers lingering on the sensitive spot behind Thomas’s ear for a moment too long as he appreciated Thomas’s profile.  
Thomas didn’t look up from the pot, he knew what Murphy was doing. He was studying him, looking for any small detail that could hint that Thomas lying. Thomas knew that he had not done anything wrong, he had not betrayed Murphy’s trust he was sure but there’s was something about Murphy’s eyes penetrating him with that keen interest that made his heart palpate ridiculously too fast.  
“I’m so lucky to have you,” Murphy finally said, his hand dropping to Thomas’s waist as he pulled him closer.  
‘All those people he hurts? All those families...’  
Thomas smiled, his concentration still on the dinner he was cooking.  
‘He could hurt you too...’


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos that are coming through!  
> Even though this is just a a ramble I’m really enjoying still being able to write this characters.
> 
> Any comments, suggestions, a general chat are all welcome :)
> 
> Stay safe and happy reading!

Valentine’s Day. 

The college was filled with students carrying roses and cards from or for their secret admirers. Flyers for the Valentines party were littered almost everywhere he stood. Addy and Mack had been joint by the mouth since the moment they clasped eyes on each other and Cassandra was giggling excitedly every time her phone beeped. Thomas couldn’t share the same enthusiasm as his friends. He had never shared a valentines with a partner before and even though he had Murphy, he didn’t feel that this year would be much different. He looked down at his coffee that he had ordered from the canteen, a pattern of a love heart floating in his foam. He sighed bitterly. He hadn’t even seen Murphy the past few nights. He had been working, so he said, and when he did come home he was often found in the morning still in his suit from the previous day sat upright and snoring in his favourite chair. Thomas had asked him why he wasn’t coming to bed only be be brushed off with a feeble excuse like ‘didn’t want to disturb ya’ or ‘I fell asleep reading’ even though there were no signs of reading glasses or books. Thomas was starting to feel like he had done something wrong. That nagging insecurity that festered away inside of his brain until he mentally tore himself to ribbons, overanalysing everything he did to justify Murphy’s cold shoulder. That morning when he had awoke he was not sure what he was expecting. Neither himself or Murphy were the type to buy flowers or carry out grand, rom-com, flamboyant gestures but he hadn’t been expecting to see Murphy sitting around the kitchen island with two men in flash suits talking in hushed voices. Thomas had halted to a rapid stop as he was confronted by two older men with wide smirks and raised eyebrows. Thomas was dressed, thankfully, in his usual all black attire, his rucksack for the day over his shoulder.  
“Oh Murphy you sly dog,” one of the men chuckled as he stroked his lengthy twisted beard while examining Thomas, “I can never keep up with you!”  
Murphy had laughed too, his eyes barely acknowledging Thomas’s entrance,  
“What is it they say? You can’t keep a good dog down?”  
Thomas had been mortified, a flush of pink burning up the sides of his neck as the trio of men laughed at his expense.  
“What’s your name kid?” The other man asked as he slouched against the side, his leering eyes making every second more uncomfortable.   
Thomas had looked towards Murphy, unsure of what he should do, but Murphy wasn’t looking at him. He was busy counting a stack of notes into three neat piles. His handgun laying next to his busy hands like a sleeping serpent ready to strike if threatened.   
“Tom,” he said, unsure why he shortened his name but it made him feel a little less like he was exposing himself.   
The man scoffed, racing his hands through a mass of curly brown hair,  
“tell me Tommy,” he asked sleazily as his eyes wondered along Thomas’s slender frame, “you on drugs?”  
Thomas frowned and shook his head reactively.  
“You a prostitute?” He then asked invasively, his lips parted with an animated expectancy.  
“No,” Thomas snapped firmly, checking to see Murphy’s reaction but he was still counting money.   
“Shame...” the man snickered as he turned back to Murphy and chortled, “how do you manage to find all the young ones huh? You’ll have to take me to your hunting grounds sometime?”  
Thomas was initially going to grab his phone off the charging port but decided he really didn’t want to be in the apartment for a moment longer and made a swift exit instead.

By the time his classes had finished, Thomas was dreading heading back to the apartment. He had even considered going home for the evening to his Pa’s place but he couldn’t just spring up on his Pa’s doorstep unannounced, it wouldn’t go down well. So Thomas begrudgingly began his journey home. He just couldn’t believe that Murphy would just sit there and let someone talk to him like that? To just ignore Thomas’s presence altogether... especially on a day that supposed to be dedicated to expressing to love and affection. It was humiliating.  
When he entered the apartment he was relieved to see the men were gone. There was a bottle of wine in the counter, it was open. Two glasses next to it but one was stained a deep rouge where it had already been impatiently used. Thomas felt the urge to gag as he slung his weighty bag to the ground. Had Murphy had someone else here? He reached for his phone that was still on the countertop, an expired alarm and some missed calls but none from Murphy. Thomas threw the phone back down harshly as he looked around the kitchen, nothing else seemed to be disturbed. He sulked towards the bedroom, preparing himself for a sight that would no doubt crush him but he couldn’t convince himself to walk away. He turned the door handle and found that he was holding his breath on a sharp inhale, his heart thumping painfully so that it felt more like a throb as he entered. He was surprised to see that the room was vacant. The bed had remained made in the same military style that Thomas had left it in that morning. There was no evidence that the room had even been entered since. Thomas’s face was starting to ache from his constant frowning, his jaw tight from how hard his teeth had been clenched together. Something was wrong.   
“Murphy?” Thomas had called out as he reentered the hallway, “Murphy are you home?”  
Silence.   
Thomas felt more deflated than before. At least if he had caught Murphy doing something untoward he could have confronted him, shouted at him, know what was happening whereas now he was left stranded with no one to vent at or to. He rubbed his face and cursed himself for acting like a skulking teenager. He took himself to the bathroom, deciding to have a shower before fixing himself a romantic meal for one. That’s when he yelled at the top of his voice in frustration.

“Oh for fuck sake!”   
The bathroom was smothered in crimson streaks where fingers had smeared the startling red fluid across the tiles. A pile of tattered and stained clothes were crumpled messily under the basin, drenched in lukewarm water that was still pouring from the taps and overflowing onto the ground. Thomas sprinted to the sink and turned the knobs, the absense of the sound of the running water making the room more eerie. Thomas inspected the pink tinged water that was seeping into his shoes and shook his head. The shower curtain was hanging half off it’s rail like it had been pulled at for stability. The porcelain tub covered on the same bloodstains and had a few cigarette butts left soggy by the plug hole. Thomas had to fight the urge not to slump to the flooded floor and weep. He was suddenly feeling incredibly claustrophobic being in the bathroom. The coppery scent of what was most likely a strangers blood making him nauseous as he questioned if he should even wait to see Murphy before he left. He was exhausted with this life. A life where his boyfriend barely spoke to him. A life where he was becoming unfazed by the sight of a bloody bathroom or drugs being weighed on the same kitchen scales he used to cook his food with. Thomas stood there numbly for a while wondering if other people had these kind of problems. How was it possible to be so close to another person, so intimate and have this indescribable bond and yet not really know them at all? He knew the bare minimum about Murphy and the more he dwelled on it, he realised that he had naively accepted that without much argument. He had gotten so caught up in the hurricane that was Murphy, all windswept and breathless from passion and romance that he kind of forgot that he needed some stability. He did not know where he stood from one day to the next. Did other people just fall in love so blindly? Were you supposed to be so starstruck and giddy on the high of finding someone that wants you that it’s only until you’re in too deep that you realise that actually, you don’t know what you’re doing? You don’t know what the person you’re laying next to thinks like? You don’t know how they tick? Thomas knew when he was treading on eggshells and he knew when to keep his mouth shut... but was that ... normal? Was it ok to just accept the bare minimum when the other person expects so much in return?

Thomas hadn’t left that night. He had crawled into bed without his shower or dinner and stared blankly at the drawn curtains until he drifted into a sad and heavy hearted sleep. Thomas had been startled when he was disturbed by cold skin and hands entwining themselves around his chest. Thomas had jumped, ready to leap from the bed when he felt himself being pulled into a icy firm body.  
“I’m sorry! It’s me, it’s me,” Murphy’s hushed voice said close to Thomas’s ear. Thomas instinctively relaxed at the knowledge that he wasn’t being attacked in his sleep but soon tensed back up when his conscious self remembered he was less than happy with Murphy. Thomas’s eyes caught the alarm on the bedside cabinet. 11:27pm.   
“What’s the occasion?” He grumbled moodily, “I thought you preferred the armchair.”  
“I thought I better get a quick squeeze with my Valentine,” Murphy chuckled lightly, as if he hadn’t been avoiding Thomas or that the days events hadn’t occurred, “even got myself some fancy drawers on if you fancy a peak?”  
Thomas was infuriated by Murphy’s audacity.   
“You gonna pay me afterwards or just leave me another crime scene in the bathroom to clean up?” He snapped acidly.  
“What’s crawled up your ass and died?” Murphy groaned, still not allowing Thomas any wiggle room to break free from his spooning.   
Thomas had to bite down on the inside of his cheeks to prevent anymore spiteful comments spitting from his mouth. He snorted with disbelief.  
“If you don’t want me anymore Murphy please don’t drag it out,” he said weakly, his head feeling heavy like cement was setting inside his skull.   
He was suddenly pulled onto his back fiercely, Murphy’s weight on top of him as his sad blue eyes locked with Murphy’s scowl.  
“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asked with a growl, his thumbs pressing hard into the palms of Thomas’s hands.   
“Oh I don’t know Murphy? Maybe because you only come to bed when you want to fuck? Or maybe it’s because you’ve barely spoken to me? Or maybe because you let your friends think I was some random drugged up prostitute?” Thomas hissed, withering beneath Murphy’s weight, “is that the kind of person you are Murphy?”  
Thomas flinched at the vice like grip of Murphy’s fingers as they tightened around his wrists.   
“They’re not my friends,” Murphy corrected Thomas with a stern tone, his eyes burning like a raging house fire inside of his sockets.   
Destructive, devastating and dangerous.  
“Could of fucking fooled me,” Thomas sneered, already regretting how he was exposing how upset he was.   
“Who do you think you’re talking to huh?” Murphy barked as he roughly threw Thomas’s arms aside and pounced straight onto his agitated feet, “fuck you!”  
Thomas couldn’t dampen that furious twinging that was coiling throughout his body. He bolted upright, his eyes bulging and his muscles twitching with agitation beneath his ivory skin.  
“Fuck me?” He shouted, “what the hell has got into you lately?”  
Murphy suddenly appeared less fortified, his shoulders slumped and his head rolled back as he sighed with a pure bitter disappointment.  
“I can’t tell you,” Murphy breathed surly, his lips pulled downwards into an unnatural curve, “don’t look like that! You know I can’t tell you everything...”  
“You don’t tell me anything,” Tommy almost whined, “you don’t even look at me anymore let alone tell me where you’ve been or who you’ve been with.”  
“Oh you’re just being sensitive!” Murphy dismissed, “it’s just been rough with work and stuff... I don’t want to bother you with all that crap.”  
“Well it feels more like you just don’t want to bother with me at all,” Thomas snapped before recoiling as Murphy jolted towards him.   
Murphy lunged at Thomas, pushing him back down onto the mattress by his throat and shoulder. Thomas’s legs were being pinned down by Murphy’s as he panicked like a young cub caught in a snare trap. He thrashed around, adamant to not succumb to Murphy’s persuasive sorcery.  
“Stop fighting,” Murphy ordered as he shook Thomas forcefully, “for Christ sake kid you make me act like a madman.”  
“Is there someone else?” Thomas asked rashly, his emotions taking full reign of the altercation.  
“No,” Murphy insisted viciously, “never. Thomas it’s all about you. It’s you, it’s you.”

Murphy’s lips were coarse against Thomas’s skin. His wiry beard scratched along Thomas’s clean cut jaw as Murphy needed at the pinking skin with his mouth.  
“Murphy stop,” Thomas begged, his hands pushing as a futile gesture against Murphy’s foreboding shoulders.   
“I can’t loose you,” Murphy drawled as he dragged his feral teeth down Thomas’s bare chest, “I promise there is no one else. There will never be anyone else.”  
Murphy’s hold on Thomas’s neck loosened as he decided to venture his gruff grasp onto the younger males boyish hips. Murphy was kissing, nipping and tonguing at Thomas’s torso with such an urgency that Thomas was concerned that Murphy might jut bite down on him. Tear out a chunk of his flesh and internal organs in a wild, frantic bid to claim his stake. To give Thomas a permanent reminder of who he truly belonged too. Thomas could feel his heart shocking against his sternum as though it was being jolted by numerous electric volts. His hands where all over Murphy. In his hair, feeling the intricate details of Murphy’s ears, his palms rubbing against the smooth fabric of an expensive shirt. Thomas was drowning again.   
Drowning in whatever magic it was that Murphy had access to when he knew he needed to prove himself.  
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” Murphy apologised between sensual kisses, “please don’t leave me. Please stay, I’ll try harder. I’ll clean the fucking bathroom. I’ll stay in the damn bed until you tell me I can get out of it. I’ll take you out for that fancy dinner that I keep saying. Just don’t leave.”  
The words were like honey glazed razor blades. A pinch of rainbow sprinkles dashed upon a steaming pile of cow manure. They were just words. Pretty, well constructed sentences that Thomas had heard before and no doubt he would hear again. Words he had tried to programme himself to be desensitised to and yet he could never make himself follow his own rules. The rule of not believing Murphy when he begged. The rule of not permitting Murphy to get too close to touch him. The rule of being strong and valuing himself. All them flew out of the window like stray papers in a gush of strong wind. He was horrified with how weak he was and yet, when Murphy was whispering these poetic phrases into his skin like somehow Thomas would absorb them better and forgive him quicker, Thomas didn’t care if he was the weakest person on the planet.   
“I’m just trying to keep you safe Tommy,” Murphy pined as he lifted his face and tried to regain his breathing, “I just don’t want you to get mixed up in my shit. If I don’t tell them about you it’s not because I don’t want to show you off! It’s because they are not the kind of people I want thinking they got some sorta leverage on me you see? They’re not gonna waste their time trying to get at me by attacking some hooker. They’re gonna wanna go for the jugular you get me?”  
Thomas watched Murphy as he lent his profile against the coolness of Thomas’s chest, his hands tracing around the odd freckle or blemish his torso held.   
“No man wants to hurt a kid, that’s why so far I’ve been lucky I haven’t pissed off the wrong nut job that would look for my Lucy,” Murphy admitted with an ashamed sound to his voice.  
Thomas felt Murphy’s thick lashes butterfly kiss against his chest as he closed his eyes.  
“The fact I dip my toes in all the pools makes people feel a lot less guilty about hurting someone I care about,” Murphy said, “hurting a woman, a kid, an old person... that can mess with a mans conscience so much more than if they were to have to get another fella you know?”  
Thomas understood to a degree. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to boast about their private life, not when so many people had such strong opinions and grudges against his boyfriend.   
“I get that,” Thomas accepted, his hand gently stroking the nape of Murphy’s wide neck, “why haven’t you been coming to bed? Or texting? Or just.... just anything though?”  
Murphy was silent for a long time. Each second that passed made Thomas regret ever asking the blasted question.  
“I’m an asshole?” He finally said with a light chuckle, “I’ve been doing some mad stuff with work, stuff I’m not normally happy to do. It’s getting to me I suppose.”  
Thomas was itching to ask more invasive questions. Ask what Murphy was doing all those hours he was awol. Ask why he even does them if it makes him truly miserable but he didn’t want to ruin this temporary truce.   
“It’s not you kid,” Murphy whispered warmly onto Thomas’s ribs, “I’ll get my act together I swear.”  
Thomas had to restrain himself from scoffing at Murphy’s trademark ‘get out of jail free’ card. He was always going to get his act together and to give him some credit, he did usually try quite hard but the enthusiasm would soon fizzle out into a dim, dying flame.   
“I mean it Tommy,” Murphy stated as he crawled his way back up towards Thomas’s mouth, “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

Thomas smiled even though he wasn’t sure Murphy would ever be able to make anyone happy, not even himself.   
“Ok,” he accepted reluctantly, forcing himself to believe that Murphy at least meant the words when he said them even if they were forgotten by the morning.   
“Now it’s 11:45...” Murphy waggled his thick brows and rubbed one of his masculine hands along Thomas’s defined V cuts, “that gives us 15 glorious minutes for us to enjoy valentines and the rest of the morning for you to appreciate how much my silky, novelty briefs turn you on more than you’d like?”   
Thomas blew air from his lips as he rolled his eyes. Typical, he thought lovingly. Before he even responded, Murphy’s hand was getting to work beneath Thomas’s shorts, knocking every shred of common sense he had into the deepest, furthest corners of his brain.   
“I love you Murphy.”  
“I love you kid.”


End file.
